Breaking All the Rules

As I get older I find that I am way more susceptible to the power of others’ “suggestions”. Mostly these are all very good suggestions, take for example Jesus telling me “You need to buy a bigger bed” or Swason instructing, “You would be an idiot if you DIDN’T buy that Ralph Lauren Olympic Jacket” and then last night… let’s just say the power of suggestion really did me a solid.

Last evening I had my first of THREE blind dates scheduled for this week. I don’t think any of these gents are relationship material however I’m rather sure I am not looking for a relationship at this time SO…. It’s all good. 

Mr. Tuesday (AKA Mr. Woods) was handsome and charming, he was on time and most importantly he was not a MESS! Seriously it’s been so long since I had a date that didn’t include a drink landing in my lap, a profuse face sweater, a social misfit, etc., etc… that this guy totally blew me away. Sure he has short comings but they are minuscule when it comes to all the other plusses. CRAP he even picked up the check without flinching – very unlike the Investment Banker Brit who took me out for a $9.00 brunch then harassed the waiter when he informed Cheap-o that “Sausage is an extra $1.50.” Cheap-o actually asked the waiter how MANY sausages he would get for $1.50, since he felt this was an exorbitant price to pay for breakfast pork since in Brittan you NEVER pay extra for anything …..hmmmm that’s questionable. 

But I digress, back to last night. After hours of bar side chatting and drinking with Mr. Woods there came that moment when decisions must be made – it’s either THIS or it’s THAT. My head was so THIS, totally THIS, no doubt I am fully THIS. There were so many rational reasons why THIS was the correct choice BUT damn that power of suggestion. Somehow even Mr. Woods sensed that I could be easily swayed to THAT with just a gentle nudge, cause really who doesn’t like a little of THAT.

I ended up tossing all of THIS out the window and extending my evening way past my bed time with a whole lot of THAT going on.  And DAMN, THAT was super fun.

I Don’t Miss What I Don’t Have

It’s been a full week since The Invisible Man vanished and oddly I’m doing super without the 24/7 ridiculousness. Well maybe not so ‘odd’ since I’m sure anybody with a clearer head than I could have predicted as such

 The Invisible Man and I had adopted a communication style that was sometimes supportive and endearing but mostly it was obsessive and all consuming. My weekday mornings were tightly scheduled around our ‘check ins’ while my work days were filled with a constant struggle between doing ACTUAL work and engaging in some all-encompassing  text exchange. Evenings were never truly mine, I was ‘on call’ mostly with either my iPhone or my laptop at the ready so I could continue whatever silliness was begun earlier in the day within minutes of the The Invisible Man “dinging” my messenger with a “YO!”.

Last Monday I tucked myself into bed fully aware that Tuesday morning would come and go without a “ding’ or a “ring”. I told myself that it’s the new normal and that I would just have to ride out the silence as the minutes slowly ticked away, quietly dealing with the title wave of emotions that would surely flow. Well Tuesday morning came and went and shockingly it wasn’t until I was seated comfortably on the 7 train that I realized – HEY I made it through my morning and didn’t even NOTICE the lack of….. everything!  Not only didn’t I notice BUT I woke up 30 minutes later, got out of the house 10 minutes earlier and for the FIRST time in MONTHS I blew my hair out straight!  It’s like my TIME is all rushing back to me, it’s really rather wonderful and freeing.

To continue with the reclamation of my personal time I did my nails last night while watching a Netflix start to finish with NO interruptions or the worry that I would only get half a hand completed before “DING”. Sure our communication habits were a two way street and there was something about our constant virtual connection that filled a hole inside of me but it was oppressive and overbearing and many times I felt suffocated by the weight of being the entertainment monkey – Dance Monkey DANCE – trying to make up for whatever real world ills were thrust upon Mr. Invisible. Now I come home from the gym and all is quiet, all the time is my time, no muss – no fuss, and I’m feeling like I’ve rediscovered my old life again.

Grab Bag of Crazy

I’m sitting at my desk on this Monday morning, facing the new week with trepidation, anxiety and a bit of – REALLY WHAT THE F!?

I made the good/ bad decision to accept two dates this week. One is definite the other a bit more, loosey goosey. Neither of these guys is ‘relationship’ material however I think I deserve a free beverage and a bit of not so innocent flirting after the crap last week tossed me.  Good idea? Not too sure. Hopefully I can summon all my acting skills to restrain the rush of emotional crazy long enough to get through a few hours of devil make care happy attitude while my insides rot secretly deep down below.

Update on the Head Shrinker: I connected with the physician that was recommended by Dr. Pico and I have an appointment with her Thursday. We are going to see if we are a good fit then take it from there.

Other health notes – last week I got a new tooth (fancy), saw an allergist who confirmed my Oral Allergy Syndrome and proclaimed, “Wow you are in excellent condition” after timing my pulse/ blood pressure and testing my blood oxygen levels /  lung capacity , got a blood test (didn’t faint), and found out that my updated higher dosage of Synthroid is finally working. I know I shouldn’t self-diagnose BUT I think that the ever increasing amount of Synthroid (synthetic hormone taken to replace the hormone my thyroid doesn’t produce) is screwing up my mood. Since the thyroid regulates mood and I have never struggled with emotional issues before taking Synthroid AND my dosage keeps increasing as my body fights the influx…. Hmmmm I’m just saying.

Forward Movement

I made it through the week mostly due to the love and compassion of all the amazing friends in my life. People complain that virtual networking tools are intrusive and lead to social isolation but I certainly would have emotionally imploded if not for the power of Facebook to share my crazy with the world and in turn receive notes of encouragement and extremely helpful advice.

I special shout out to Swason who has supported the mother load of my dissolving psyche with the patience and restraint of a saint. She is Catholic so it is par for the course and she told me that while she is dealing with my mental meltdown she is earning extra bonus “good” points to make up for her transgressions. Ehhh I’ll still buy her a case of wine, as a Jew I’m not too sure about that point system.

My therapist search is still ongoing, however I feel that I am on a fast track after engaging the assistance of my most favorite REAL health professional, Dr. Pico. Yet again thanks goes to Swason who with a clearer head than mine suggested that I ask one of my current physicians for help after 11 of my calls to perspective therapists went unreturned and she was bombarded with a Gtalk window chock full of my anxiety ridden babble. I’m certain Swason is rethinking that decision years ago to teach me about IMing – it must be difficult for her to enter payroll for a Broadway company while solving my life issues, I don’t know how she does it.

 

I know that the chunk of crap that went down on Monday will fade over time, dissolve organically and just fly away, however it’s the other gray, the gray that’s taken up residence for the past 10 months that really must be evicted. With Dr. Pico on my side and his excellent recommendations (I called one yesterday, I am waiting for her response) I feel a huge amount of relief that I don’t have to fix everything alone, that I have people that are better equipped than I and they are happy to share the load.

Cleaning House

I’m continuing to engage in the vanishing act that was imposed upon me Monday by The Invisible Man. I have dutifully deleted all contact info, removed shared folders, updated passwords and even survived the knife to the gut new millennium true final breakup move of being “unfriended” on FaceBook. But now that the virtual evidence of his existence has been erased it’s onto the more daunting task of exorcising the physical artifacts.

I would assume when most long term relationships die people get more than a 10 minute phone call to work out all the bits and pieces, both practical and impractical. There is time for emotional closure and a wrap up of unfinished business; you know - something like a relationship exit interview. However this was not the plan that The Invisible Man set forth, he instead announced frankly that we were done, just hang up the phone and return immediately to your life without hope of ever hearing from me again. It was so fast and so final, well at least for me, that I had no time to unpack the decades of ‘stuff’ from my head and my heart. I really thought that after all this time I deserved more of an ‘ending process’ in which I was an active participant not just a passive receiver of a final surprise ruling at the stroke of High Noon that left me weeping on a park bench.

Anyways now I’m left with “shared” items that have accumulated in my apartment, items that I need to discard or else suffer the ghosts that lurk behind my closet doors. As I photographed my past life and readied the images for my Ebay postings my body ricocheted through my entire inventory of emotions. 

Wow, whomever my future therapist is, she is gonna get an earful.

Waiting For the Phone to Ring

I placed my call for help to three head shrinkers and now I impatiently await a reply and hopefully a purgefest of all this gray goopyness.

As I wait I have taken a few steps to stem back the tide of emotional malaise and promote forward movement:

1 – I removed ALL Adele tunes from my ipod, damn that woman knows how to poke at a sore spot, and I replaced her tracks with The Olympic Theme. I pity the person who can feel stagnant when those trumpets blow; glad I haven’t gotten to that point yet.

2- I’m back at the gym, “they” say that being active organically stimulates your endorphins. I don’t know about that but I do know that for an hour my hatred of my Boot Camp instructor gives my emotional overload a new target of obsession.

3- I made a very adult decision last night to NOT buy a brownie and drink the fancy beer that is store housed in my fridge – even though I wanted it badly. I have never been an emotional eater or drinker so I thought I shouldn’t start now, one less thing to discuss with the head shrinker.  Even though I was able to fend off the urge to engage my digestive system to numb out my head, I did hit up Zappos and bought four pairs of shiny black 4” heels. Don’t judge readers, I’m SICK…. I have to self soothe somehow.

However even after laying all this powerful groundwork I still  find myself slowly releasing big soft heavy wet tears onto my desktop each time I read a loving text, email, and/ or Facebook comment from my so supportive pals. Crap I don’t even need that sentimental stimulus; I was tearing up at the Korean deli yesterday afternoon ordering a tuna wrap. NOBODY should be crying when ordering a tuna wrap, that is most pathetic. Now I am totally regretting that brownie decision, a brownie would never allow such a public display of unhappiness.

Time To Call In A Professional

A month ago after my fifth close friend gentle suggested, “Maybe you should talk to somebody?” I actively began researching my health insurance’s mental health coverage. For about 10 months my usually sunny disposition has been slightly veiled in gray and I have taken to silently sobbing at my desk – that’s never a good sign. Mix that all up with yesterday’s direct blow to my heart and head and we have a perfect storm of emotional devastation.

I can’t ignore it anymore or continue to burden my supportive friends, I have to make the call and get my head back in gear. I reviewed my insurance website and after becoming increasingly overwhelmed by the “Find a Physician” tool I decided to choose my therapist in the same manner as I chose all of my other physicians; Female, Upper East Side, and Jewish last name. I have a short list of three candidates and fingers crossed one will have space in her schedule for my crazy ass.

I’m not sure what to say when I call, do I just say “Hey…. I think I’m broken, can your doctor help me?” Swason told me last night that I shouldn’t feel anxious about making the call cause the receptionist probably gets newbie calls like mine all the time. Swason also suggested that I may want to lead with “Hi, I’m a middle aged single woman living in New York City and I’m sad”, that way I get ‘fast tracked’. She also she reminded me that I’m not gonna be telling the doctor anything she hasn’t heard before, I’m not the MOST fucked up woman in this city. How does Swason know all these truths? She constantly amazes me.

Since Swason has been my lead therapist for the past several years I was hoping she could send my new Doc. her outline for getting me back on track:

1. Tell me I’m an idiot as I enter the room

2. Instruct me to drink at least a half bottle of wine

3. Listen to my problem

4. Tell me I’m an idiot (again)

5. Instruct me to “Kick (insert offending person’s name) in the head!!”

Unfortunately Swason did not acquiesce to my request; however I’m rather certain that she will still imbue me with copious amounts of wine on Monday nights even after my head is properly shrunken by a professional.

Lastly Swason suggested that I re-title my Blog “Just Call me Shirley” considering that the origin of the title “Want My Slaw” is a due to a long ago conversation with the Invisible Man. Why “Just Call me Shirley”? I have NO CLUE, but at the moment it was suggested it seemed very reasonable – it is under consideration.